Stories of Regret - Star Wars Rebels
by hannahkirkby
Summary: The Ghost crew deal with the new realities they now face when a blinded Kanan and a broken Ezra return from their mission on Malachor without Ahsoka. [Contains spoilers for The Twilight of the Apprentice and uses of alcohol]
1. Aching Memories

**ACHING MEMORIES**

* * *

Ezra didn't know where he was going. His feet travelled steadily along the halls of one of the Phoenix Squadron ships, apparently determined to walk and walk until his memories faded.

Ahsoka ... she was just ... gone.

It was still unreal to Ezra. It didn't actually happen, did it? He felt like he would bump into her any time now as he walked down the dim corridors. Surely any second now she would walk out of one of the many doors with a datapad in her hand, her armour clinking and her smile bright.

But she was just ... gone.

Ezra walked out of a small passageway into the mess hall. It was nearly pitch black inside and his eyes hadn't adjusted to the dark yet. Everyone had gone to sleep hours ago, but Ezra hadn't even tried; he knew he would just lie awake with the memories of the dead.

He knew that this was all his fault. It was _his_ fault Kanan had lost his sight. It was _his_ fault he nearly killed them all. It was _his_ fault Ahsoka was nothing more than a treasured memory. If only he hadn't been so stupid ... what kind of a Jedi would make a massive mistake like that?

He walked around the tables and chairs, subconsciously using the Force to feel his way through the dark. The mess hall that had been so noisy and full of life just hours ago was now empty and eerily silent.

Ezra's body was heavy with exhaustion but his mind played the haunting screams of those lost like a broken record. He shuddered.

Then, all of a sudden, he felt overwhelmed by the darkness. The walls seemed to be getting closer and the air felt thin. Imaginary voices whispered all around him, pointing fingers and throwing blame. His mind raced. He had to get out.

His feet began to move faster underneath him. He hopped over the legs of chairs and a few scattered cups on the floor. The big gleaming exit sign appeared in front of him, but before he could get any closer, he tripped. With a gasp, he went plunging to the ground, landing on a pair of human legs.

An irritated grunt followed as he tried to get his bearings. He clumsily mumbled apologies, his mind still on other things.

"Oh, it's just you, kid," the voice said, a little cheerier this time.

"Rex?" Ezra asked, his eyes straining to see the figure in the dark.

"The one and only," he chuckled, not quite sounding himself. A strong, pungent smell filled Ezra's nose, making him cringe in disgust. He'd smelt the same stench whenever he'd walked past a bar on Lothal.

"Come, sit," Rex offered, lazily patting the ground next to him. The boy obeyed and sat down on the floor, not commenting on the fact that the clone was drinking, something he'd never seen him do. Ezra figured you couldn't blame him, especially after losing Ahsoka. It definitely wasn't the best way to cope, but he supposed it was the easiest.

"What're you doin' up, 'ey?" Rex slurred.

"Couldn't sleep," Ezra shrugged.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Rex replied, swirling the contents around in the bottle in his hand. He gave a chuckle. "Eh, what are we doing this for?" he grinned sluggishly, leaning against the legs of the chair behind him. "Why do we risk so much when we know we're going to lose it, am I right?" He took a gulp of his drink.

Ezra paused to think about it. "Well, I guess because we believe in something," he finally said. "Because we're passionate about it."

Rex scoffed lightheartedly. "The Jedi and my brothers believed in each other, and look where that got them," he said with a laugh, clearly not realising what he was saying. "Nah, belief is for children." His face dropped suddenly. "And I'm through with believing."

Ezra didn't say anything. He just looked at the ground in thought and listened to the clone down some more alcohol.

The boy suddenly looked up at him, hope shining in his eyes. "But Ahsoka believed. She had more belief than any of us. Don't you think she would've wanted-"

"Ahsoka is DEAD!" Rex burst out angrily, silencing the boy. Everything went quiet. The man's chest rose and fell in exasperation, his eyes flooding with grief. He blinked twice, reality catching up with him. "Ahsoka is dead," he repeated softly. "And i-it's all m-my fault..."

He slumped back against the chair with the bottle in his hand and took a long sip to stop the tears from coming.

"No, Rex," Ezra said, approaching him softly this time by placing a hand on the clone's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Rex, who had been trying so hard not to dwell on the topic ever since they came back, gave in. "I ... I should've protected her," he said, his body shaking slightly with every word. "I _could've_ protected her. If only I'd gone with you guys, she may s-still be a-alive..."

Ezra leaned back against a chair and bit the inside of his cheek. "No. It's my fault," he whispered. Rex glanced at him sadly. "I'm the one who insisted we trusted Maul. Ahsoka warned me against it ... and she was right." Ezra looked down at his lap.

"Yeah ... she tended to be right _a lot_ ," Rex said, subconsciously smiling a little as he thought back to the memories they'd shared.

"I should've listened to her," Ezra mumbled to himself.

Rex paused for a second and then sighed. "Well, I guess we're both hopeless," he shrugged, holding the bottle out to Ezra. The boy was tempted to take it for a moment, but then declined.

There was a long pause. Silence hung in the air like a reminder of the deaths Ezra had seen that day. Each lost face appeared in front of his eyes: the three Inquisitors, Ahsoka, Maul...

Maul was dead, right? He hoped so. He knew that it wasn't right to wish death upon someone, but he couldn't help it.

He had been so gullible to trust him. How could he have been so gullible...

Ezra sighed and looked at the drunken clone. Rex smiled tiredly back at him.

"Yeah. We're hopeless."


	2. Blinded

**BLINDED**

* * *

The world had never felt so ... empty.

It was a weird feeling not being able to blink. Everything was dark and cold. Kanan felt shut off from the rest of the world, as if there was now a barrier between him and the full experience of life. He moved his head from side to side, trying to picture his room that he'd once been able to see.

His desk was over there ... and that's where his closet was, yes ... and there's Hera ... and-

"Hera?" Kanan asked, suddenly feeling her warm presence fill the room.

Hera, who was standing in the doorway watching him, smiled. "How'd you know?" she asked, making her way over to him.

"I may not be able to see, but I can still sense things," he grinned, trying to picture her in his mind. Her green skin, her soft eyes, her sweet smile...

But Hera's smile disappeared when he mentioned his sight. Sitting down beside him on the bed, she brushed a strand of hair from his face. As she absentmindedly ran the back of her fingers across his cheek, careful not to touch the bandage that covered his scars, she remembered when their friend Zaluna had lost her vision years before. The Sullustan probably never got her eyes fixed after that. Hera wondered how she was doing. It was another one of the many loose ends they still had to tie up when they had time ... if they _ever_ had time.

Kanan turned to face Hera, not quite looking directly at her. "You've gone awfully quiet," he smiled, his wound not dampening his charisma. "What are you thinking about?"

"Kanan..." Hera began, a deep sigh escaping her, one so heavy and full of sorrow that it made Kanan's brows furrow in concern.

"Hera, it's okay," he tried to assure her, fumbling around for her fingers.

She took his hand firmly in hers and began again. "No, it's not okay, Kanan," she shook her head angrily, suddenly full of frustration for herself. "I should've been there for you. We should've gone to Malachor together." Her words came out quickly, barely registering in her mind before her mouth blurted them out. "I should've been firmer! I should've forced you to let me-"

"Hera," Kanan said so softly it made her stop mid-sentence. He squeezed her hand gently. "There's nothing you could've done. Maul was ... a Sith of some kind. Neither of us would've stood a chance."

Hera tried to speak again but Kanan cupped her cheek with his hand and continued. "I know that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and others. You've been taking care of my sorry butt for the past six years." Hera chuckled at this. A smile pulled at Kanan's lips as his fingertips trailed her cheekbone. "But some things are out of both of our control. Sometimes life throws obstacles like this at you..."

"...and we just need to be there for each other when it does," she nodded. "I'm here for you, Kanan. I always will be."

"I know, Hera," he nodded, smiling sadly. "I know."

The Twi'lek looked down at their joined hands. He was suffering so badly. He tried not to show it, but she could tell he was in pain. Memories of when he'd first arrived back flooded her mind. She remembered how she'd felt; her body numb with shock as she took his face in her hands, and then holding him in her arms for ages like she had before he left. They'd both felt defeated. Broken.

Her thumb traced his knuckles in thought. What would it be like to not be able to see? Surely you would feel lonely, right?

No, Kanan didn't _have_ to feel lonely. She would be there with him every step of the way, no matter what the cost. If she had to lead him around on missions or describe every paint colour Sabine had come up with for the rest of her life, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

She looked up at him with a warm smile, half expecting to see adventurous blue orbs staring back at her, but coming face to face with bandages instead. Her delicate eyebrows knitted together and she had the sudden urge to rip it away and see if his eyes were still there. The eyes that made her feel strong when they looked at her with admiration, the eyes that narrowed in determination as he pulled out his lightsaber, the eyes that comforted her when she was hurting. He had galaxies in his eyes and they shone brightly at every opportunity for adventure.

She hooked one finger under the fabric and slowly began to pull it away. Kanan's hands shot up to stop her. "Kanan, please," she whispered. He nodded slowly, reluctantly dropping his hands into his lap as she continued to pull it away.

There wasn't much to see except raw flesh, slightly coloured by the bacta the medical droid had applied. Hera's heart dropped at the sight. He'd been so brave to take down Maul even when in this much pain. Her vision blurred and she felt a weight in the pit of her stomach.

Kanan's head dropped. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Hera smiled slightly. He looked so small in front of her, like the young Caleb Dume she imagined whenever she heard bits and pieces about his past. "I've seen worse, love," she said. "Does it hurt?"

Kanan nodded, trying to feel for the bandage on the bed. "Here," Hera said, slowly putting it back over his eyes, careful not to hurt him.

"Thanks," he whispered softly. She stared at him lovingly for a while. He'd always be her Kanan, no matter what happened. He was still the courageous Jedi she knew, and he needed to know that. With a heart full of warmth, she slowly leaned in to kiss his forehead.

"Like, I said," she replied, pulling him into her arms, "I'll always be there for you."

* * *

 _A/N: I regret nothing._


End file.
